


world.search(you);

by divingbell



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Needs Therapy, I am still prepared to fight god and also canon, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, aiball but not as the focus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divingbell/pseuds/divingbell
Summary: Ryoken and Takeru bring Yusaku home. They work some things out along the way.
Relationships: Fujiki Yusaku & Homura Takeru & Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Homura Takeru/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken
Comments: 20
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revolver's request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi this fic is 20% written and 80% block of text in a google doc tbh

Den City is a lot quieter than Takeru remembers. 

Maybe he's finally gotten used to it, adapting like any regular city dweller to the noise of ten different conversations being conducted at once and the incessant hubbub of passing traffic and the flamboyant ads for whichever pro Duelist is flavor of the week _(congrats, Kiku, I've become a city boy, you can totally laugh now)_ or maybe it's simply that everything is considerably less interesting without someone offering constant commentary and a helpful insight on the world around you. Regardless of the reason, navigating Den City has become secondhand to Takeru despite almost three months spent away from it, and he manages to snag an unoccupied table in the main square with plenty of time before the writer of the anonymous request in his VRains inbox is scheduled to show.

Takeru props his chin in one hand and pokes at his Duel Disk with the other, idly reading and rereading the short message. There is no signature. The text and display are both rather plain, lacking any of the usual frills Kiku or her friends use to customize messages, and someone who managed to get past Kusanagi's carefully crafted firewall (implemented specifically to avoid a repeat of the Valentine's Day Disaster) might not be a certain enemy considering how many hackers he knows. Maybe combing the back ends of Link VRains for any fragment of useful data as opposed to constantly fighting for his life has made Takeru a little less wary than he should be, but an open park with plenty of witnesses is obviously meant as a neutral ground, and, well. It's a nice morning, the sky is clear for once, and nobody's out to kill him (probably) so a super-short nap can't hurt, right?

"Hm, it's busier than usual today," murmurs someone, and Takeru would brush it off as a regular's passing comment if not for the fact that he _recognizes that voice from inside the VRains._ Every hair on the back of his neck stands up, and he jackknifes to his feet with all the precision of a lifetime of martial arts practice. 

At least, that's what would have happened had he taken into account the chair, or the table, or the fact that his body was entering the first stages of an actual nap. Instead, Takeru manages to accidentally clip the side of the table with his hip on the way up and trip over the chair he was trying to get out of, ensuring a truly spectacular fall.

"Hello, Soulburner," says Revolver.

Wincing, Takeru picks himself up off the ground and grudgingly adds a point to his personal tally in the column of "Revolver might actually be a respectable human being" upon noticing that the latter looks mildly concerned for his safety. Then he crosses it out because no, the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy, and Kiku's tendency for pettiness is rubbing off on him. 

"Great, it's _you._ What do you want?"

"I thought it would have been evident from the message I sent you," responds Revolver, just as calm as ever. God, he's annoying. "I even signed it as a favor."

"You definitely didn't, but okay." Takeru picks a twig out of his hair and scowls down at it. "Why'd you message me there, anyway? Did you forget how to use LINE?"

"So there was something I neglected to do, after all..." Revolver blatantly ignores the question, tapping his Duel Disk with a finger and frowning slightly. "...More importantly, did you seriously answer what you thought was an anonymous summons completely unconcerned for your physical safety—"

 _"—Moving on,"_ snaps Takeru, because the answer to that question is _yes_ and he would rather face down a ghost in the dead of night than get berated for it by Revolver, of all people. "Seriously, answer the question. What do you want with me?"

"You haven't changed at all, it seems." One side of Revolver's mouth quirks up in a mockery of a smile, and the briefest flicker of amusement crosses his icy eyes. "A shame we don't have the time for the usual back-and-forth. I find that I am in need of assistance, and you happen to fit the criteria."

Takeru drops the twig. "You _what."_

"I need your help," repeats Revolver. He looks rather annoyed this time. "Are you making me repeat myself on purpose?"

"No, it's not that! I just," Takeru flounders helplessly, looking for something to say that won't make Revolver totally despise him for denting his pride. "I'm not a hacker, so why ask _me?_ I can Duel, sure, and punch things, but…"

"Yes, and that's exactly what I need," Revolver says, and then looks like he regrets it. Takeru definitely regrets hearing it, because Kogami Ryoken actually asking for help from anyone is seriously throwing his whole morning off. He can almost hear Kiku laughing at him. "I have been tasked with retrieving something, and it would benefit me to have someone who can—"

"Cover your ass?" finishes Takeru gleefully, knowing Revolver detests the coarse phrasing, but also because he's not a total dick and knows Revolver hates asking for assistance almost as much as he does. Plus, the sooner they take out whatever threat is out there, the sooner Takeru can go home and forget this entire conversation. "Sure, I'll do it. When and where?"

"Ideally, now." Revolver raises his Duel Disk.

"Are you stupid?!" Takeru lunges for Revolver's wrist in a panic, yanking his hand back down. "People will definitely notice if you randomly pass out in the middle of a park, why do you think we used the hot dog truck for covert operations, _hello–"_

"I wasn't going to enter the VRains right this second," snaps Revolver with the air of someone who was definitely going to enter the VRains right that second. 

_For a genius, you're kind of an idiot,_ Takeru doesn't say, and sighs very deeply. "We can just go back to my old apartment if it's something the two of us can handle. I haven't completely moved all my things out yet, anyway, so the landlord will probably think I'm back for the weekend or something."

"Lead the way, then," says Revolver, delicately unhooking Takeru's fingers from where they're still hooked around his wrist.

Takeru flushes up to his ears and hurries away from the table.

* * *

The apartment is a short walk from the main square, and Takeru's extremely grateful to his past self for packing his keys and saving him several really awkward questions from his nosy but well-meaning landlord. "Who's your friend" would likely be the first one, and he has no idea how to explain that Ryoken is in fact a very attractive enemy who is out for the deletion of his other half so they will probably never be friends, actually.

(— _was,_ corrects his traitorous brain, _Revolver can't erase someone who isn't here anymore,_ and Takeru is caught off guard by the shard of raw grief that stabs him in the side. For a brief second, he stops breathing, remembering how Flame curled around him and murmured that it was probably the end for him this time, _Soulburner, I'm leaving the rest in your hands—_ )

"Homura Takeru," says Revolver, and the shock of hearing his full name snaps Takeru back into the present. Dimly, he realizes Revolver's been trying to snap him out of it for awhile now.

"Yeah, hi, that's me." Takeru grins, but there's no humor in it. "Wow, I must've looked pretty miserable for you to break character, huh, _Ryoken?_ "

In a surprising display of self-awareness, Revolver does not rise to the bait, and Takeru's grin curdles into a smirk as he fits his key into the lock.

The handle gives easily. Takeru ignores Revolver toeing off his shoes behind him and murmuring a polite greeting in favor of finding the light switch. It's pretty apparent that nobody's been here in awhile; although the apartment is tidy enough, the overhead lights are much dimmer than usual, most of the appliances are completely off, and a light layer of dust covers almost every surface. Takeru swipes a finger across one of the countertops and wonders if the plant on his bedroom windowsill is still alive.

"Cozy," remarks Revolver as he takes in the small apartment with a perfect poker face. The impression is shattered barely a second later when Takeru catches him eyeing the fully-automated coffee maker with an unhealthy amount of suspicion.

"Stop that." Takeru moves to protect his caffeine machine with a swiftness that startles even himself and decides it's probably a good thing Kiku convinced him to kick the habit of coffee in the mornings. "Anyway, just sit anywhere, I guess. I can't really offer you anything 'cause if there's leftovers they're probably sentient by now."

"That's…" Revolver looks like he's struggling for the right words, but eventually settles on "...fine" and takes a seat on the couch. Takeru pokes around the empty cabinets just to have something to do for a bit before eventually giving in and sitting across from him, drawing his knees to his chest and activating his Duel Disk properly.

Unfortunately for Takeru, Revolver is not so nice as to give a warning that he's setting their destination himself, and Takeru yelps at the unpleasant sensation of being forcibly yanked out of his body and dumped unceremoniously onto the virtual ground.

"Hey, what the fu—"

"Quiet," snaps Revolver, and Takeru very nearly finishes his sentence just to be petty before he actually registers their surroundings and the rest of the words die on his lips.

At first glance, it's a run-of-the-mill factory, albeit pretty rundown. The space is large and open, and hulking machines slightly rusted from disuse line the walls. There is no proper walkway. A huge metal bridge spans the length of the room, extending horizontally above Takeru's head to cast eerie shadows across the floor. One wall is missing, as though someone coded the area in a rush, and bits of data occasionally float off into the virtual sunset. It's eleven in the morning. The air is heavy, charged with the remnants of something Takeru can't _(won't)_ put a name to, and ice crawls steadily up his spine as he tears his gaze from the setting sun outside. 

The ground is covered in wisteria petals.

* * *

"Hey, Revolver," says Takeru with a terrifying sort of calm. "Just what sort of retrieval mission do you think you've brought me along for?" 

The other's expression twists for half a second, quick enough to miss, and Takeru feels his heart drop like a stone.

"These are Playmaker's memories," answers Revolver quietly. "Soulburner, this is a rescue."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Ryoken. Have you ever made a friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ren for betaing this chapter cuz I need a weed whacker to my english sometimes. v__v Also ty everyone for your nice comments AHHHH

Ryoken has made several mistakes.

Clearly, his first mistake was getting out of bed this morning. The migraine he woke up with is responding to neither caffeine nor Tylenol, and sharp spikes of pain still plague him despite the fact that he's not even in his physical body. (This detail feels significant somehow, but the persistent headache is bad enough that Ryoken chooses to ignore it in favor of continuing to mentally catalogue his many regrets.)

His second and third mistakes are 2) Asking literally anyone for help and 3) Asking Soulburner in particular, who is currently staring at him with an expression that can only be politely described as homicidal.

"What is _WRONG_ with you," snarls Soulburner.

 _A lot of things,_ Ryoken responds, but only in his head, because it's probably better for everyone if he doesn't actually answer that question aloud. Also, he has more important things to say in the short period of time left before Soulburner inevitably loses his grip on his clearly fragile sanity and just starts swinging.

"Yesterday, at approximately 11:11 PM, a distress call went out to the entirety of Link VRains. Unfortunately for the sender, it was untraceable, untranslatable and missed literally every single target, with the notable exception of one person–"

"Get to the damn point."

Soulburner is vibrating with barely-restrained anger. Ryoken stamps down the frustrating urge to just walk off and never look back and reminds himself that there is something far more important at stake here than his own pride.

"Someone sent out a scrambled message with traces of both Ignis and human coding. It hit Shoichi Kusanagi's radar. Unfortunately, he’s not currently equipped to hack into much of anything, considering that he’s currently standing vigil at the ICU."

"You're joking, right?" Soulburner laughs, and the sound echoes harshly across the open space between them. "I mean, it's a shit attempt at a joke, 'cause we all know Kusanagi could hack his way through Link VRains with nothing but a paperclip, but watching you try to convince me someone's virus disguised as an SOS actually sent him to the hospital? Now _that's_ hilarious."

" _Kusanagi_ is fine," interrupts Ryoken. His tone must be sharper than usual, because Soulburner suddenly stops looking entirely determined to cause problems on purpose. "I used the phrase 'standing vigil' for a reason."

"Yeah, it's proof you're a massive fucking weirdo," mutters Soulburner. 

Ryoken ignores him. He's getting better at it.

"The distress signal was a coded set of coordinates corresponding to a real-world location. Fujiki Yusaku was admitted to the intensive care unit at 2:30 AM this morning. He is currently suffering from severe dehydration and malnourishment, and also appears to be in a coma."

"Ah," says Soulburner, and proceeds to glitch out almost completely. 

Ryoken rushes towards him, bracing for the worst, but before he can take more than three steps towards Soulburner a white-hot flash of pain surges through his entire body. Thankfully he doesn't completely crumple to the ground, but the shock of experiencing actual physical pain ensures that he remains firmly on his knees until he feels like he can breathe again. 

"We can't do this in a day," whispers Soulburner, one side of his face trailing pixels as his body attempts to stabilize itself.

Ryoken staggers to his feet. "Not with that attitude."

"No, you idiot, I mean it!" Soulburner doesn't bother waiting for the rest of his avatar to repair itself before catching Ryoken's arm to stop his ill-advised progression forward. "We'll be ripped to shreds if we go past here without some sort of shield, you _know_ this, Revolver! Something is trying to take us out! You can feel it too, can't you?"

"The network is trying to protect him," says Ryoken.

"The network is also trying to _kill us,_ " snaps Soulburner. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Pot, meet kettle." Ryoken ignores the facade of a factory tilting dangerously around him in favor of shaking Soulburner's hand off his wrist. (Soulburner goes a startling shade of red but does not comment further, and Ryoken files this particular incident under T for Things We Don't Have Time To Unpack Right Now.) "My Link Sense isn't as strong as yours, so I'll be able to ward off most of the attacks as we progress–"

"No." Soulburner cuts him off.

Ryoken, tired of being interrupted, readies a particularly scathing remark about how the countryside clearly hasn't done Soulburner any favors, especially regarding his manners, before he catches sight of the other's face and the words die on his lips. 

(It's in the stubborn set of Soulburner's jaw, and the unyielding steel in his eyes, that makes Ryoken realize what should have been obvious all along.)

"Throwing ourselves into danger with a half-assed plan won't bring him back any sooner," says Soulburner grimly, kneeling to gather an armful of wisteria. "If we're doing this, we're going to do it right, and we're going to do it together. We owe Playmaker — no, Yusaku — that much."

The edges of the factory begin to fade around them, bits of data scattering in glorious swirls of sepia and flower petals, as something tiny and bright floats up from between the spaces of Yusaku's first final memory. Ryoken reaches out to brush aside the strings of code rewriting themselves around him, extending his hand to catch something, anything—

— an electric blue butterfly lands on his finger.

* * *

The last thing Ryoken sees before the system forcibly kicks him out is a hazy figure with a myriad of brightly-colored flowers woven through their dark hair, asking him something he's much too far away to hear.

* * *

Ryoken has never slept over anyone's house for fun. To be invited to such an event would require having 1) friends, 2) some sort of social life, or 3) both, none of which were particularly conducive towards the completion of the Hanoi Tower (or, later, the destruction of the Ignis.) 

"That's just sad." Soulburner rolls his eyes, returning to the clearly arduous process of picking up ingredients at the corner store, and Ryoken feels an inexplicable sense of relief. Soulburner’s usual temperament is much better than any sort of misplaced pity, after all. "Aren't you friends with Spectre or something?"

"Yes," replies Ryoken, and fails to elaborate. Soulburner glares at him. They walk the rest of the way back to Soulburner's apartment in silence.

("Friend" is not quite the right word for what Spectre and Ryoken are to each other, but that’s not something Ryoken ever wishes to discuss with Homura Takeru. He might mention it to one certain person, if they ask nicely, but if he and Soulburner fail to cooperate then nobody will be able to ask anything of _anyone_ , really–)

"...Revolver?" 

Ryoken blinks himself back into the world of the living to find his field of vision mostly taken up by fluffy hair and glasses. He absently notes that Soulburner seems to genuinely lack awareness of the concept of personal space. "I'm awake."

"Awake is kinda subjective," mumbles Soulburner, but he backs off, spatula in hand. "If you're that tired, you can skip dinner, but...you shouldn't do that."

Ryoken is not so exhausted that he doesn't remember to thank Soulburner for the food and the roof over his head, but the other boy brushes it off with a tired wave.

"Whatever. I might not like you, but we're allies for now, right? The basics are important too, after all."

The basics, huh.

* * *

Ryoken lies awake later that night, staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

It should have been simple. Kusanagi gave him the map, coordinate by coordinate, and all they had to do was follow it. But then why did the entirety of the network physically rebel against them trying to retrieve any part of Yusaku's memory?

"Go the fuck to sleep, Revolver," gripes Soulburner from the floor. "I can literally hear you thinking from here."

"Why did we get attacked today?" Ryoken asks, leaning off the edge of Soulburner's pull-out couch to glare down at him. 

(It really is quite a comfortable couch. Ryoken is beginning to see the appeal.)

"I don't know." Much to his surprise, Soulburner actually considers the question, propping his chin up on crossed arms. "But here's what _I_ think. If you're trying to protect something, anyone going around messing with it is obviously an enemy, right? So I bet whatever took us out was supposed to be a warning, and it just hit us a lot harder 'cause we're psychic."

"Please stop referring to Link Sense in such a callous manner," sighs Ryoken, but his mind is already going a mile a minute. Not every part of Yusaku's soul has been lost to the network, as evidenced by the fact this map is a lot smaller than it could have been, but there's a lot of information they don't have and time is not on their side. _Instructions unclear, got vaporized in the back end of Mirror Link VRains_ –

Ryoken forces himself not to startle as several things occur to him at once.

"Soulburner. What did you do with the petals you picked up?"

"Huh?" Soulburner blinks up at him, eyes widening in confusion. "Not much, I just scattered them in the direction of the memorial…"

_Ai's memorial, then._

Out of all of theirs, Yusaku's Link Sense was always the strongest, after all.

* * *

Ryoken tugs Soulburner's blanket over his head, curling up further into the couch, and tries not to think too hard about the fact that Fujiki Yusaku is once again registering him as nothing but another enemy.


End file.
